Past Nightmares: Hello Neighbor Sequel
by radical.tincan
Summary: "It's not that I forgot you Aaron, I just didn't want to remember." Nicky's new mission is to find Aaron, only this time it's not in Mr. Peterson's basement. After twenty years of avoiding his past nightmares, Nicky has to face them head on, but at what cost?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Long Forgotten

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The beat is slow and steady, unlike my heartbeat, which is fast and uneven. The people who are hovering over my head are distant and unclear, as is their speech.

"Ni…" Someone starts, "Nico…" I hear again.

The sounds that seem so far away abruptly come and shock my ears. I wake with a start; halfway up on my bed, or what seems to be my bed. The tubes sticking from my arms and nose hold me back from sitting straight up. Hands push me back down again, and voices become calm again.

"Wha…" I begin, looking at the lights from the monitors next to my bed. I see where the _beeps_ are coming from; the monitor closest to my bed. The lines creates tall mountains and short hills.

"Nicholas Roth," I hear one voice say. This time it is crisp and clear, but my response is not.

"Huh…?" I manage to say.

"You've been in a seizure induced coma for 17 hours." It is the doctor. He continues, "I'm Dr. Khatri."

"I...have?" I ask without thinking. My head is still groggy from...whatever happened last night. Or was it the day before? I can't remember anything but the crazy dream I had. As strange as it seems, it all makes sense. The dream was about my childhood, though I was still an adult. I know that there was another man in my dream, Mr. Peterson. A villain, or just misunderstood? At the end of the dream, I wasn't sure. I am cut off from my thoughts by the doctor.

"Nicholas, are you feeling alright?"

"Other than the fact that I was out cold for 17 hours?" I ask.

"Well," Dr. Khatri starts, but I interrupt.

"Now that I think about it, my head hurts...a lot."

"Nic-"

"And my back hurts from laying down so long."

The doctor can't even start his next sentence before I butt in again.

"Could I get water?"

"Nicholas!" Dr. Khatri says a little too forcefully. "Never mind the question." Then he turns his focus on one of the other nurses. "Get him some water." The nurse reluctantly goes out of the room to get it. The doctor's focus is back on me. "You seem to be stabilized, but you should stay until morning while you..uh," He glanced at me, probably noticing how high I looked, "While you can properly think cognitively again." Which I think is a polite way of saying "While you can actually act like a sober person again."

I sigh, and say, "Alright." Things are not really alright; I still have no idea how I got into a coma in the first place, or how I got into the hospital. My eyes search the room for answers; answers that could be hiding within the pale beige walls. As I stare absentmindedly at the water bag hanging above me, the nurse sets down the glass on the table next to me. She isn't the same nurse from before; I knew because the nurse that came out to get the water did not have light brown curly hair with bright light green eyes. Her skin is a tan color and her smile is sweet. The other nurse has a sour face and messy dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun, and considerably older.

"Do you need anything else?" She asks me, her cherry red lips curling into a smile.

I am in a daze for a moment, then I finally respond with a slow head shake.

She nods at me and begins to leave.

"Wait," I say without thinking...again. She turns around with her eyes wide as if to ask what I want. "Do you know who brought me here?"

She cocks her head slightly.

"I mean," I continue, "Do you know who called to bring me here?"

She takes a deep breath, "Well," She starts, "I believe your neighbor called."

I sit up, as much as I can anyway, "My neighbor?" My heart starts to beat faster.

"Yes, she said she lived in the house to the left of yours."

My heart slows its pace. At least it isn't Mr. Peterson. Why am I worried in the first place? He's gone; and even if he isn't, he should be better now. "I don't know my neighbors well." I say finally. It was a partial lie; I know some neighbors too well.

"A senior citizen, I don't know her name, but she apparently made a pie for you to welcome you I suppose-"

"What kind?" I felt inclined to say.

"I, uh," the nurse is caught off guard, "I'm not sure, but she made one and she came to your house this morning...or yesterday morning…"

I glance at the clock, and it's almost two in the morning. What's this girl doing at the hospital at two in the morning? She should be sleeping.

"And she peeked through the window to see if you were awake and…"

That's a little creepy.

"Sir?" Broke through my thoughts.

"Uh-oh..Sorry, uh, continue." I say, embarrassed at my lack of concentration.

"She found you on the floor, and not knowing what to do she called 911." She finishes.

I blink at her trying to process all the information. I say, "Oh." Seeing that she didn't leave I add, "Okay, um...thanks." I'm not exactly sure what to say.

She nods and is about to walk out when I ask another question, "Hey, uh, what's your name? I'm Nick."

She laughs, "Yes, I know. I'm Kate."

"Oh," Right, she's been here the whole time. I continue, "Cool."

Before walking out she says, "Any more questions?"

I chuckle, "No, sorry for keeping you."

"It's fine," She says and closes the door behind her.

I'm alone again in the hospital room. It's kind of hard to sleep when the room is so bright. I can barely sleep anyway, so I suppose it doesn't make a difference. I don't want to risk another dream like that again.

As I look around the room, I notice how new it looks. I don't remember a hospital in Raven Brooks. A lot is new. It could be the progression of twenty years, but maybe the people around here got tired of looking to the past, and finally looked to the future; maybe.

—

I don't know when I fell asleep, but when I wake up it's already nine in the morning. My head is throbbing and pulsing in pain. I reach up to touch it but a hand is already there. I gasp, and I'm up on the bed suddenly.

"Lay down," Someone tells me.

I do as they say.

"I'm checking your temperature," A nurse above me says. Not the same nurse as before; at least she can get some sleep. This nurse had short brown hair and rich dark skin.

"Am I okay?" I struggle to say through the pain just above my eyebrow.

"You seem to be fine," She starts, "But Dr. Khatri needs to see you before you're released."

I sigh again. "Okay," I say. I really don't want to stay here. I'm tired of hospital food; tired of the smell of a cleaning agent, and tired of my back hurting from laying down at an angle for so long; but all I say is "okay".

She gives me a tight smile and walks out without another word. In what seems like forever, the nurse walks back in.

"Is it the doctor?" I ask quickly.

"No," She says, slightly annoyed. I should be the one who's annoyed.

"It's your neighbor; she wants to see you." The nurse says, opening the door for a small woman. She has puffy white hair, and creases along her face, outlining her eyes and mouth. She smiles at me and her wrinkles deepen so much I think they'll pierce through her skull.

"Hello," Her frail voice says to me. "Are you feeling alright?" She has a slight accent, European maybe.

No. "Yes," I answer, "Much better." Not.

After the nurse walks out, my neighbor and I are left in awkward silence, in which at the moment I decide it's a good idea to drink my room-temperature water that's still on the nightstand. As I drink, I notice that the lady is still staring at me expectantly. I take the last gulp of water a little too hard. "Um," I start, "So your my new neighbor?"

She nods timidly, "Yes, I've been in the neighborhood for about fifteen years."

"Hmm," I mumble. She moved in a few years after I left. "I just moved in...two days ago?" I chuckle, "I being in a coma and everything, I lost track of time."

"When I saw you on the floor...I did not know what to do," She says with a tinge of fear mixed with embarrassment in her eyes. "I suppose I just thought you had fallen and could not get up."

I can't stifle my laughter now. She reminds me of the Life Alert commercial I always see on my cable channels. She notices this, and laughs; her laughs are more like squeaky hoarse ones.

"I am Ms. Krause." Yep, European; German I think.

I feel an urge to ask her about Mr. Peterson. Not that she knows him, but just to see what happened to him after all these years; and Aaron. Now that I think about it, it's been a long time since I thought about Aaron; not until yesterday. I've been too busy just being an adult to think about past nightmares. "Do you know Mr. Peterson? He used to live in the neighborhood…" I say, hoping that she did know him, somehow.

She blinks slowly; I guess even blinking is slow in old age.

After thinking a few seconds she says, "I have heard of him."

My eyes grow wide, "What have you heard?"

"Only terrible things," She shakes her head.

"Anything about a family?"

"Yes," She stares hard at nothing, "A wife, and a daughter."

Aaron? "What about a son?"

"I have not heard of a son."

My chest deflates How can they forget Aaron...how can I forget Aaron? I must've been silent too long, because she says, "Did you know a son of his?"

I nod slowly, "Yeah. A long time ago." She gives me a sympathetic look; then I continue, "Do you know what happened to Mr. Peterson?"

"I am not sure…" No one knows about them. And for the longest time, I didn't care.

My throat tightens up, and I can feel my face getting red. I guess I feel like I betrayed Aaron in some way, that I didn't go to look for him afterwards. After all that trouble searching for him just to escape after, I never tried to get in touch. I left, and that was that.

"But…" I hear her say, and I sit up a little straighter. "I think, though I am not sure, that he went to a…" She lowers her voice, "Mental hospital."

I blink. Insane? I knew he wasn't quite right in his head, but a mental hospital? I guess after they found out about Aaron, he was gone for good. Hopefully not completely gone. "Where?" I ask.

"Not in this town," She continues, "I do not know where."

"Would this hospital have records?" Finally something interesting to do. For the past few months, I've been living off welfare, looking for a job, and figuring out what to do with life. But finally, an adventure; I'll figure other stuff out on the way.

She shrugs, "I am not sure."

I look at her for a moment, thinking about the best way to do this. "Could you get the nurse-" Both the doctor and the nurse from earlier walk in at the same time, nearly running the old lady over with the huge metal door. "...for me?" I finish my sentence for the satisfaction of finishing a sentence. The nurse gently takes Ms. Krause by the arm and leads her out, which leaves just the doctor and me. He asks me questions if I had been sleeping well, or if I have had an experience of strong emotion like stress or worry in the past few days.

I can't lie, "Yeah…"

He scribbles on his notepad then asks, "Do you know what might be the cause of these emotions?"

I take in a deep breath. Ever since I came back here, all I've had was flashbacks. "Well, I have been having flashbacks…" I say quietly.

The doctor makes a quick "Hmm" then asks, "Do you have a history of PTSD?"

I don't know; I feel like I do, I guess I just suppressed all those feelings and avoided thinking about the past. "I...don't know."

Dr. Khatri after that does the routine physical exam, poking stuff into my ears and mouth and flashing bright lights into my eyes.

"You seem to be fine. You're lucky you didn't get paralyzed, or worse."

I give him a questioning look.

"From what I saw, you had a seizure in your sleep."

My jaw drops. He hands me a piece of paper with some messy handwriting about some medication.

"This you can get at the local pharmacy…"

There's a pharmacy now?

"...Take this once a day. Schedule an appointment in six months so we can check up on you." Then he smiles politely, and helps me off the bed. I struggle to get out the door as multiple bones pop.

I slowly make my way to the front desk which was three floors down from my room; the elevator is out of order, so I take the stairs. Ouch.

I slump on the front desk while making a sound similar to laughing but in pain, as my knee pops for the twelfth time. "I need to schedule an appointment in six months," I say to the bored-looking lady at the counter.

"What doctor?" She asks without looking up.

"Dr. Khatri," I say clutching my knee.

"He's all booked in six months, but I got a 2:00 on September third which is four months…"

No kidding. "That sounds great." I smile through clenched teeth.

"Have a nice day," The lady says emotionless.

Yeah right. You have a day too.

Just as I am about to walk out, I remember something, "Oh! Excuse me…" I walk back to the front desk, "Sorry," I start, which she replies with an enervating look. "Do you know who I can ask for hospital records?"

She lifts an eyebrow, "Go over to the 'help desk', they might know something." She continues to eagerly work on whatever it is she does on that computer. I walk over to the help desk, which isn't very helpful because there's no one there. "Great," I whisper to myself. A bell is there, but I always thought it was rude to ring the bell, even though its purpose is to let people know that you're there. I stare at my watch, counting every second.

"May I help you?"

I jump, and my knee pops again. "Ow," I groan, "I was wondering where I could ask someone about the records of this hospital?"

"You can ask me," The young man says. He seemed young enough to be doing an internship.

"I was wondering if a came to this hospital?" I ask uncertainty. I don't think this hospital was around that long ago.

"Do you know what year?" He asked me.

I think for a moment. If Ms. Krause moved here fifteen years ago, and was already gone… "I don't know for sure, but try 199…" Random number before 2000 and after 1995, "1998."

The kid fumbles on the computer for a while, like he doesn't know where to look first. "Excuse me sir, I'll be right back," he says, then quickly walks away. Great, more waiting. It's almost eleven; I've been in the hospital all day. And I'm hungry. I haven't had dinner or breakfast yet. How am I supposed to get home? Lyft it is.

"Sir?"

I jump again; thankfully my knee didn't pop. "Yes?"

"We found a Theodore Peterson...is that who you're looking for?"

"Yes," I guess I say a little too eagerly, because the kid steps back a little. "I mean...do you know where he went?"

"According to the records, was transferred to a mental institution near Columbia eighteen years ago."

It's that long ago? It seems like yesterday… "Oh…" is all I can say.

"By the way, it was in '97 not '98." He says with a smirk. It isn't a rude one, but one of those people do when they're trying to make you feel better. I chuckle at the kid, "Thanks." For more than you know, kid.

"My pleasure, sir." He says then disappears behind a door on the back wall.

I haven't felt this way in a long time; I have a mission now. A mission that has been long forgotten, but it's still there, and I'm determined to complete it once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2: Finding Memories

Colors blur as I look out the window, it fogging up from my breath.

"We're almost in Columbia, mister," says my Lyft driver. We share few words during the car trip, but from what I know, he's older than I am, and in much worse shape. I guess it's customary for him to pour out his life story to all his passengers; but I helped in ways that I could, though it wasn't very helpful.

He told me, "Don't waste your life...spend it with those you love, because they ain't gonna be around forever."

I think about Aaron, and all those years he could've suffered. If I find his dad, I might find him. I suddenly remember that the hospital place apparently needs a pre-made appointment to visit. I dial the number and then excuse myself from the drivers' inspirational quotes.

"Hello?" A cheery voice says. I'm caught off guard by the enthusiasm of his voice. I attempt to explain to him that I need an appointment. If it is my wording or my accent I don't know but the guy just didn't seem to get what I was saying.

"A visit to see Mr. Peterson," I say, thinking that if I say it louder maybe he will understand.

"An appointment when?" The guy asks me for the twentieth time.

I am trying not to get irritated, "Today. As soon as possible…?"

"Ah! Now I understand."

How did you not understand before- "Great. What time is best for you?"

"Two is the next visiting hour."

"Thanks...bye," I hang up abruptly.

"They didn't understand you?" Jerry, the driver, asks.

I know I'm not the most eloquent speaker, but I can speak English. "No...I don't know why. I guess I can't speak as well as some people."

"Look," Jerry says, "The only person you should compare yourself to is who you were yesterday." These life lessons should be helping me, but they only make me feel worse. I was in a coma yesterday. I was scared yesterday. I moved into a house I dreaded to come back to yesterday. Maybe today will be different.

I am interrupted from my thoughts as the car slows to a stop. At the outskirts of the city we lay. I get out of the car, my body reluctant to leave its comfortable seat.

I take out my half drained credit card and hand it to Jerry. It's been a while since I got a payday. I've been having trouble finding a job that's right for my style. Everything so far has been too uptight for my taste.

"Thanks kid," He tells me before driving away.

"No problem," I say in a half whisper. I stare at the city with tall towers with their heads high in the clouds, and the streets filled with the buzz of activity as the cars fly by. I am used to the noises from here. I used to live in a city before I got...evicted. But that doesn't matter now. I've got a mission to fulfill.

"Excuse me...sorry...ouch...excuse you," I say to the random people who decided they would bump into me. After about 45 minutes of walking according to Google Maps, I reach the Missouri Psychiatric Center. The red brick walls and perfectly congruent windows reminded me more of a prison than a mental hospital. I sigh. I've walked this far I can walk some more. As I walk in, I'm greeted by the smell similar to the hospital, mixed with sweat, or maybe that's me. It isn't exactly a cool day, even in Missouri. I can't imagine how hot it is down South.

"Hello sir, may I help you?"

I turn around to see a man with a kind smile. But there was something wrong with his face...Maybe it's the eyes, or the nose...something just seems off. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; many things could be off at a mental hospital.

"Are you the man I talked to over the phone?" I ask him.

His smile remained stuck on his face, "Oh...Yes. Nicholas, right?" He emphasizes my name.

"Yeah, I know I'm a bit early, but-"

"Just take a seat in one of those chairs." He points to two uncomfortable looking metal chairs isolated in the corner of the lobby.

I smile weakly. I'm going to have to wait the next hour in those chairs...hooray. I take out my phone and begin looking at Amazon at all the stuff I don't have enough money to buy. Like replacing my iPhone 5. The screen cracked about a year ago when I dropped it out the window of my apartment. Don't ask me how, I don't even remember what I was doing, but it fell; that's when I learned it's better to put an Otterbox on it. I'm surprised it didn't completely rupture like my other phone did before my current one. That one fell out of my hand when I was walking my dog (rest in peace Martin). He pulled so hard I fell, and my phone flew into the street and got crushed by an eighteen wheeler. I've been through a few phones...maybe a new iPhone X isn't a great idea.

For the next hour I look up the many possible places Aaron could be. Where would a runaway twelve year old spend the next twenty years?

"Excuse me sir, you can come with me." This was another guy. He was older and taller, but his face was placid; like he had been trained to have a poker face the working hours of the day. I follow him through stark white hallways with bare concrete walls. We walk a few paces before the man stops abruptly in front of me and the sound of my sneakers squeaking echoes, painfully breaking the silence. The man shoots me a sideways glance and I respond with an apologetic smile.

"Please place any valuables into the locker at the next double doors," he tells me with no trace of friendliness in his voice. He takes out a key card, and, glancing at me, puts the key card's face to the entry box. He ushers me to the next double doors. It is the same as the last ones: gray, bleak, and boring, but these made me more anxious knowing a possible enemy could be on the other side. I place my valuables,my wallet and my phone, into the locker almost reluctantly. I almost regret coming here; I think- no, I hope he might not be here after all. I've been running away all this time, but now I'm meeting my fears head on. I flinch as the guard opens the final door. I see in the room people all crowded into one place; some screaming at unseen monsters and others muttering to themselves concocted clandestine plans. The guard followed close behind me as I searched the room for a familiar face. I near the back of the room; the people there seem more...sober. People acknowledge me as I go by; some nod at me, some smile weakly, but one stares at me with a questioning gaze. Though I don't recognized him at first, those wide green eyes force a suppressed memory out of the dark shadows of my deepest fears; I stop, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Is there a problem?" I am in such a state than I nearly jump four feet in the air. "Is he the guy you want to see?" The guard asks with a more forceful tone.

I think my heart is beating so strongly it ruptured my vocal chords. I only nod absentmindedly still focused on those deep green eyes beckoning me to come closer.

"Hello Nicholas," Mr. Peterson says in a hoarse whisper.

It feels like the whole earth shifts under my feet and the next thing I know I am on the floor kneeling, breathing heavily. All the memories are coming back now; both pleasant and painful ones. It feel like throwing up before the guard helps me back up to my feet. I glance at Mr. Peterson who, although his face remains neutral, there is a flash of laughter in his eyes.

"S-Sorry," I almost gag. It's mixed feelings all at once. Hot and cold; dizzy and steady. I found the memories I wanted, and they're not pretty.

"I would like to speak to Nicholas alone," He says with power in his voice, like he has some right to talk to me.

The guard scoffs, "You think I'm going to leave him with you?" He spits the last word.

"Take us to my room," He demands, "You can sit outside if you like," He attempts to put a pleasant smile which only succeeds to make my stomach churn again.

"I'll stand inside," The guard's eyes are so narrow it seems like he's squinting to see the small writing on a road sign when you're fifteen hundred feet away.

We continue to Mr. Peterson's room in silence. I can feel his beady eyes on me almost the whole way, but I try my best to pretend I'm not next to the reason I couldn't sleep at all for five years after what he did to me...and to Aaron. It's all for Aaron, I remind myself.

The guard opens Mr. Peterson's room for us and insists that Mr. Peterson go first. The guard pushes me back and went in after him. My first instinct is to run; run as far as I can from this place. But I can't. I'd feel like I betrayed Aaron...again.

"Nicholas," He gestures to a chair, "Sit." He says like I'm his dog. I reluctantly sit down in a comfy chair next to him, while the guard eyes us carefully from the corner.

"Don't be such a drag, Kevin," Mr. Peterson yawns. I suppose that's the guard's name. He just rolls his eyes. I look back at Mr. Peterson who is staring at me intently. "So," He starts, his eyes still fixed on me, "What brings you here? It's been what...twenty years?"

Being next to you it seems like yesterday. "Yeah, I suppose."

He pauses his eyes growing wider, then he lets out a short spurt of a chuckle, "You shouldn't be afraid of me. I'm a changed man."

I could hear the guard muttering in the background some stuff about "changed man" and "such a lie".

I give him a skeptical look.

He chuckles again, "Believe me; I've been in this dump for eighteen years moving over here and there and every institution and they still don't believe me." He flicks his hand at Kevin.

"So I've heard," I say quietly.

"He would've gotten out earlier this year if his son hadn't shown up." Kevin remarked.

"His son?" I say eagerly, then I turn to Mr. Peterson, "Your son?"

Mr. Peterson's once light face becomes dark and heated, "Yes. Him."

"If his son hadn't arrived this man would be out on the streets, _still _insane," Kevin's voice is haughty.

"I am not insane!" Mr. Peterson barks, "_He _did this."

"Oh yeah sure," Kevin mutters.

"What did Aaron do?" I attempt to ask but Mr. Peterson jumps on his feet and stomps firmly on the ground.

"I just had to ask you a question," I raise my voice over the sound of Kevin ordering Mr. Peterson to sit back down.

"What?" Mr. Peterson says with nostrils flared.

I cower down, "Do you know where Aaron is?"

He takes in a deep breath his eyes still wide with anger, then he seems to relax a bit, "Of course I know where he is."

My face lights up, "Where?"

Mr. Peterson pauses for a long time, and I get the impression that he didn't know where Aaron was.

"He's everywhere," He shakes his head. I glance at Kevin who is shaking his head at Mr. Peterson, except his is a sorrowful one.

I continue to push him, "Did he tell you where he lives?"

Mr. Peterson takes in a shaky breath and says in a whisper, "California…"

"California?" I ask again.

"Yes!" He lunges at me, inches from my face, "He's trying to get away from me…" I can feel his breath.

"Maybe it's because the last time he visited you, you nearly gouged his eyes out."

I instinctively rub the bottom of my eyebrow.

"He was trying to hurt me," Mr. Peterson's voice carries more intensity at every word.

"It was self defense," Kevin insists, "You tried to hurt him first."

Mr. Peterson had hurt Aaron first. Why Aaron came back to him, I'm not sure. Maybe he thought the same I did: after almost twenty years, his dad should've gotten better. Maybe he thought that after his dad blamed him for so long maybe he had it somewhere in his heart to forgive him.

Mr. Peterson's face is filled with shock, as if he can't comprehend that he was to blame. "OMEN!" He shouts at the top of his lungs. He repeats it over and over, as if trying to ward off Aaron's spirit from his mind. I see the Mr. Peterson I knew long ago, wide darting eyes, a shocked but angry expression, and a subconscious repelling of anything Aaron.

Kevin takes my arm, "I think it's best if you go." He has look of pity, "Just go to the left, straight down that hallway until you see the exit. Just check out and you can leave."

I nod, my feelings still rubbed raw from the encounter. I know what state Aaron is in now if that helps any, but I can't help but feel that I dug up bad memories from ground untouched for many years. I feel like I just made it worse for Mr. Peterson; as much as I should hate him, I almost feel sorry for him; almost.

I get my belongings from the lockers quickly and check out with a quick nod to the man at the counter. I push the exit door- wait what? It's not moving. I push on the door for the next two minutes until the man at the counter decides to inform me that the door is a "pull" door.

"Oh...duh," I say stupidly. This is one of the many times I do something stupid. The "visit" must've really upset my sense of situational awareness. It messed up a lot of stuff. As much as Aaron and Mr. Peterson don't want to, I think the only way to improve Mr. Peterson's mental state is if they both talk it out and make up. I know it was hard for me to face my fears, but if it's for the best it should be done, right?


End file.
